


Why

by cuethe_pulse



Category: Gravitation
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-23
Updated: 2015-02-22
Packaged: 2018-03-14 16:51:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,123
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3418262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cuethe_pulse/pseuds/cuethe_pulse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eiri hates questions; but he may need one to correct a horrible mistake.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Questions

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on livejournal, June 2008.

“Are you breaking up with me?” Shuichi asks, voice trembling. “For real?”

Yes. He is. And everyone wants to know why. Why—the question Eiri hates the most.

And _why_? (Ha.) Because he never knows how to answer.

 

 

“You tell me,” he says, scowling at his therapist as he fingers the pack of cigarettes in his pocket. “That’s what I pay you for, isn’t it?”

“You’re sabotaging yourself,” she says, meeting his stare, without even a glance at her notepad. “You’re convinced that you don’t deserve to be happy, so once things started going well and you started to feel content, you ended it.”

Eiri’s scowl deepens and the fingers in his pocket still. “…You didn’t even have to think about that, did you?”

“No, not really.”

It makes sense, he supposes. Things _were_ starting to go well. He _was_ starting to feel content. He can remember one day in particular that felt like it belonged to someone normal, someone who wasn’t so screwed up; he woke up beside Shuichi, made breakfast, took Riku to school, worked, picked Riku up from school, made dinner, and fell asleep beside Shuichi. He remembers feeling so…peaceful. So comfortable. So satisfied.

The breakup came four days later. And he felt blissfully screwed up once again.

 

 

“But you’re unhappy, aren’t you?”

Eiri exhales a stream of smoke and wonders briefly if Riku’s teacher has started encouraging him to form full sentences and questions; he’ll have to do something about that later. “Yes,” he says. “Isn’t it great?”

Riku frowns and looks confused. “But—”

“Quiet.”

“…But—”

“ _Nnh_. Hush. It’s done,” Eiri snaps. “Go do your homework.”

Riku obeys and Eiri tries to write. They have a silent, uneventful dinner. No one laughs or talks with their mouth full. No one tries to tell a joke but forgets the punch line. No one finds a really bad movie on TV for them to watch. No one insists on playing a silly game like Twister. No one sings.

Around midnight, Riku crawls into the writer’s bed and even in the darkness of the room, Eiri can feel the boy’s look of “What do you have to say for yourself?”

Eiri sighs, weary and regretful, and admits, “I made a mistake.”

 

 

“How are you going to fix it?” Yuji Nakano has a bad habit of acting like they’re good friends, just because Eiri sometimes acknowledges his presence. He doesn’t appear to understand that when they run into each other in public, it’s purely happenstance. This particular afternoon, he seems to think they _planned_ to meet at the convenience store when, really, Eiri’s just out of beer. “I mean, you can’t just ask him back this time.”

Eiri arches a questioning eyebrow.

“You told him it was really over, right?”

Right.

“Then that’s what he’s thinking. And apart from being sad, he’s probably pissed as hell. So if you just ask him come back, without offering anything else, there’s a good chance he’ll reject you.”

Oh. …Really?

“Yeah. And, I mean, _I_ haven’t heard anything, but who’s to say he isn’t already thinking of moving on? Or _has_ , even?”

That’s unlikely, Eiri thinks.

Hopes.

…Shit.

“You’ve got to do something really serious. Really romantic. Y’know?”

So be it.

 

 

“What’s the occasion, sir?”

Eiri glances down at the little boy standing beside him. Riku nods, approving, encouraging. He grits his teeth and looks back at the jewelry store clerk.

“…An engagement,” he says.

He’s wasted two weeks trying to decide if this was the right thing to do. It seems reasonable. A proposal is serious. A proposal is romantic. There’s no way in hell Shuichi will turn down a proposal. And if he goes ahead and marries the boy, he’ll be less inclined to repeat his mistake, he thinks.

Hopes.

 

 

“Yuki?”

“Hey,” Eiri says, trying to keep his voice steady, though the hand holding the phone to his ear is shaking like mad. His brow furrows at the noises he hears in the background; it sounds like the singer is in the middle of a huge crowd that’s all speaking…Spanish? “Where are you?”

“Um, Spain.” Well, that explains the Spanish. “I’m on tour.”

That’s right. He forgot. It’s on his calendar, but he never looks at that thing. “When are you getting back?”

“A—month, maybe, I don’t know. Yuki, why are you calling me?”

 _Why_. He shuts his eyes for a moment and then opens them, looking down at the little black box sitting on his desk.

“Yuki?”

“Will you marry me?”

“W... _what_?!”

He forces himself to not hang up, to not tell the boy to just forget about it. He forces himself to look at that little black box, to tell himself that he does deserve to be happy and this is going to make him happy. “Will you marry me, Shuichi?” He repeats, adding his name, which he thinks makes it sound better.

Shuichi stammers something nonsensical and incoherent while the people around him chatter rapidly in Spanish and Eiri holds his breath.

And then the line goes dead.

…Shit.


	2. Answers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shuichi doesn’t know why he can’t find a way to answer him.

Shuichi’s cell phone dies. He knew it was going to; it started beeping at him right after Eiri proposed, which seemed to be some sort of omen. Some sort of _really_ bad omen.

He can’t believe that Eiri proposed.

He’s been pissed at the guy for _weeks_. Eiri was a jerk and a bastard and Shuichi very possibly hated him because it was _really_ over. And then, out of nowhere, he calls and proposes while Shuichi’s standing on a street corner in Barcelona.

And his phone freakin’ _dies_.

Now he stares at his dead phone and turns around slowly when he hears Hiro and Suguru approaching him, wearing T-shirts that they’ve obviously just bought and laughing as they tell him that further down the street there’s a man selling ducklings for five Euros.

“Did the Demon Ex call?” Hiro asks when he notices the cell phone.

“Mm.” Shuichi nods.

“You guys patch things up?”

“Um.” He really isn’t sure. He’s still dazed. “He—proposed to me.”

“Proposed what?” Suguru asks, brow furrowing.

“Marriage.” Shuichi isn’t even able to feel offended that Suguru had to ask.

"Ah geez..."

“What did you say?”

“Like he’d say anything other than yes…”

“That doesn’t look like a guy who’s just said yes, Hiroshi.”

“Oh, so you did the right thing, then?”

“What did you _say_?”

“I—I didn’t say anything.” Shuichi holds up his phone. “It died on me.”

“Well, use mine,” they say, simultaneously pulling phones out of their pockets.

“No!” Shuichi can barely believe what he’s saying even as he says it. “No. I don’t—want to.”

Hiro and Suguru stare at him; he stares back.

“You don’t want to use our phones…” Suguru begins slowly.

“…or you don’t want to marry him?” Hiro finishes, looking concerned.

Shuichi doesn’t know how to answer. He pockets his own phone and clears his throat and asks, “Ducklings for five Euros?”

 

 

He hooks his cell phone up to its charger when they get back to their hotel room that night. He stares at it while it beeps and begins charging, nervously biting at a fingernail. He wonders if Eiri thinks he hung up on him. And that makes him feel bad. And he feels worse when he thinks about how he didn’t try and call the writer back all day.

But it was _totally_ Eiri’s fault for being such a jerk!

But then…wasn’t proposing _totally_ making up for his jerkiness?

Proposing. Eiri proposed.

“BASTARD!” Shuichi jumps up and yanks the phone away from its charger to yell at it. “YOU PROPOSED TO ME AND I CAN’T EVEN ENJOY IT PROPERLY BECAUSE YOU’RE SUCH A _JERK_!”

In a fit of fury and frustration, he chucks his cell phone at the wall. Unfortunately (inevitably), his aim sucks and the cell phone goes out the open window.

“…Shit.”

 

 

“Maybe it’s better this way,” Hiro offers.

Right.

“Without the convenience of a cell phone at hand, you won’t be tempted to make a hasty decision,” Suguru points out.

Right.

“You’ll have a whole month to think things through,” Hiro agrees.

Yeah.

“I think that’s a very mature course of action,” Suguru remarks.

Whoop-de-freakin’-doo.

“So I have a month of agony and indecision?” Shuichi asks, just to clarify.

“Yes,” they say.

 

 

He’s going to say yes, he decides as Bad Luck’s tour bus goes through a tunnel.

Why shouldn’t he? He loves Eiri. And when people are in love, they get married. Duh. He smiles as he thinks about it, leaning his forehead against the window as the bus leaves the tunnel and he sees miles and miles of Spanish olive trees stretching out before him.

Yes. _Yes._ Yes, yes, yes, yes.

He giggles to himself as he imagines the happiness Eiri will feel when he says it. He wonders if the writer bought him a ring, wonders if it’s sitting in a little black box, waiting for him back… Back home? He’s been trying not to call the apartment his home after being kicked out—for real—but he assumes that it’s all right to call it that now.

Now that he’s been _proposed_ to.

He grins slowly, chuckling. Gradually, as he throws his head back, his chuckles grow into something more like maniacal laughter. But he quiets after K shoots at him and tells him to shut up because he’s scaring their guide. …Like the gun-toting American has any room to talk.

 

 

He’s going to say no, he decides as the hair and makeup stylists prepare him for the night’s concert.

Why shouldn’t he? Eiri’s just going to call the engagement off. Or divorce him. The jerk. And why would Shuichi put himself through that? He frowns, and then has to hastily assure the sensitive makeup artist that it isn’t because of her and plasters on a smile, even as she pokes him in the eye while applying kohl. He loves Eiri, and wants nothing more than to marry him. But he doesn’t know if Eiri loves _him_ , really. And (obviously) this wouldn’t be the first time he’s gone back to the writer only to be hurt again. Is it really worth the risk of more heartache?

No.

He doesn’t want to imagine what Eiri will feel when he says it. Just the thought of possibly hurting Eiri makes him feel a little sick and he can’t afford to feel sick when he’s got to be on stage in ten minutes.

It’ll be over when he says it, though. _Really-really_ over. He’ll have to find his own place. He’ll have to date other people. He’ll have to fall in love with someone else, be proposed to by someone else, say _yes_ to someone else.

He feels sick. He has to have most of his hair and makeup redone after he runs to the restroom to vomit.

 

 

He doesn’t know what he’s going to say, he decides as K hands them their plane tickets at the Madrid airport.

“Are you sure the tour’s over?” He asks, clinging desperately to the manager’s sleeve. “I-I mean, are you really sure? We haven’t missed anyone? Maybe we should do Seville again, they liked us there!” K shoots him a disparaging look and he turns to Hiro, whimpering. “I need more time!”

Hiro pats his back. “You can always hide at my place.”

Shuichi sobs his thanks through tears of gratitude until Hiro tells him he’s going to visit Ayaka on the weekend, so it would be nice if he makes up his mind by then.

 

 

Somehow—maybe it’s the altitude or maybe it’s the sappy romance movie they show during the flight—Shuichi has made up his mind when the plane lands in Tokyo. He tells Hiro to get his luggage for him and once he’s off the Jetway, he’s off. He wants to do this now. Now, while he’s sure it’s the right thing. Now, before he can talk himself out of it.

He runs the whole way and by the time he reaches the apartment, he’s amazed that his pounding heart hasn’t burst or jumped out of his chest. He takes the stairs and he’s sweaty and disheveled and manic-looking when he knocks on the door. Eiri opens it, looking surprised to see him, and opens his mouth to speak, but Shuichi doesn’t give him a chance.

“YES.”

Eiri blinks. “Sorry?”

Growling, Shuichi grabs him by his shirt collar and is so close to shaking him. “Don’t give me that, you _know_ what I’m talking about! My answer is yes, Yuki! Yes, yes, yes, y—!”

Eiri breaks free from his hold, only to take him by the waist and pull him close, crushing their mouths together.

Jerk.


End file.
